Shadows of the Past
by Maeyaculpa
Summary: HP/SS The first three chapters have been edited. Harry is completely alone in this world and seeks release. Snape won't let him, and plans to punish him for ever thinking about it. Updates weekly. Betaed by the ever-awesome Darkalleyway.
1. Death

Emerald eyes gazed at the ceiling, unseeing. His whole body felt numb, all around him in the dormitory the gentle sound of chests rising and falling permeated, the air heavy with slumber. How badly those emerald eyes wished to close, to drift off into sleep, but they couldn't. What lay behind them was far too terrifying.

The year had been horrid, Sirius was murdered in the first of the final battles, Hagrid died fighting at Harry's side. Dumbledore had perished in the last battle along with Ron and Hermione. They all died to protect Harry - the boy who lived, yet again. Although now he wished he hadn't. The war was over, his friends - no, his family - were gone, there was nothing left to fight for, nothing left to live for.

It was the end of the term, only one more week until school was out for the summer. Only one more week before he was forced to return to the Dursley's. Unbidden images filled his mid, floating across its surface. Images of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley. The cupboard under the stairs, the small room on the second story. Memories flooded, being rescued by Ron in the summer of his second year, spending summers with him and Hermione, dinners with Sirius, conversations and candy with Dumbledore.

Rolling onto his side Harry tried to push the images away, to grasp the numbness that was keeping him sane. Closing his eyes with the strain of it, the images became even clearer, sharpened. His eyes burst open, and his sight fell upon Ron's now permanently empty bed. The numbness slipped away and pain flooded into him. Warms tears fell down his soft cheeks, soaking the bed sheets, the maroon covers shimmering like blood in the wetness. Harry felt as if his soul was being torn into pieces, but that was impossible, as he had lost that scrap of ether long ago.

He needed to be away from this room, away from this place, the pain was unbearable. He wanted to die. Everything he touched and cared for did, so why couldn't he? Grief weakened arms pushed him awkwardly from the bed, the racking sobs caused him to sway before he found his feet. Stumbling he found his way to the end of his bed and to his trunk, trying to silence himself, which only turned the sobs to hiccoughs. Opening his trunk as quietly as possible, Harry removed his invisibility cloak; the last thing he needed was to be found, to have to explain, to have to think about any of it. Tossing the cloak around his shoulders Harry left the dormitory. The common room was empty, and his unsteady feet carried him across the space to the portrait hole. Escaping through it Harry took a deep breath, the pain faded, the numbness was returning.

Blindly Harry walked through the corridors. Searching for something, searching for nothing. His feet carried him on their own path. Up staircases and down, through curves, straight-aways, tunnels and secret passages. Harry didn't know where he was, and he didn't care. All he knew was that he hadn't run into anyone yet. As soon as the thought formed Harry heard footsteps approaching. They sounded quite a way off, but he was still sniffling and he didn't want to be found. Sliding into the first room he found, Harry shut the door behind him and crumbled to the floor. He didn't know why he bothered hiding, it didn't matter, nothing did anymore. Holding his face in his hands Harry tried to wish himself into nonexistence but he could not succeed.

A cry of desperation escaped his lips and his hand clutched wildly at his shaggy black hair, removing sections of it. Opening his eyes Harry tried to determine where he was. Bottles lined the walls, with various odd things floating in them. There was a cupboard on the right, a desk with a chair in the middle. He was in an office, but not just any office, it was the Potion Masters office. That meant only one thing, Harry's escape was within those stone walls. Standing with a purpose Harry almost ran to the cupboard at the other side of the room. He was sure it would be locked, his hands frantically searched the pocket of his robe for his wand, but it wasn't there. Another cry ripped forth, more of frustration then desperation, his escape was so close! Checking his pockets his hand landed on something cold and slick. After retrieving it, Harry examined it. It was the knife Sirius had given him. Tears welled up and began to spill out at the memory of his lost and beloved god-father.

Resting his back against the cupboard Harry tried to regain control again, the footsteps returned, coming closer, pulling back his attention. Opening his eyes Harry noticed the still steaming cup of tea resting on the desk, that must be Snape approaching, coming back to his office and his tea. Harry had to hurry; taking the knife blade out Harry ran it down the crack between the cupboard doors. No click issued forth, desperately Harry clawed at the doors and they swung open, having been unlocked the whole time.

The steps were very close now; Snape would walk through the door any moment. The emerald eyes searched the cupboard frantically finally landing on a pus colored liquid in a small vial, his vision was too blurred to read the label but the skull and cross bones were prominent. As Harry grabbed for the bottle he heard the knob turn, but he had his cloak on, he couldn't be seen, it would give him enough time. The door opened as he uncorked the lid.

"Potter." Snape's chilling voice slid over the stone room, Harry's heart almost shot through his chest.

How could Snape know he was there? Spinning Harry's eyes met Snape's and his vision sunk to the floor, his cloak had been caught in the door.

"Potter." Snape repeated, the silky tone becoming deadly "What are you doing in my office?"

Panicking Harry did the only thing he could think of; he downed all the pus colored liquid in one gulp.

"POTTER!" Snape screamed as Harry fell back; the vial falling from his hand and shattering on the floor.

A burning sensation ripped through Harry, his insides felt as though they were boiling. Hearing screaming Harry attempted to figure out where the bone chilling sound came from, only to discover it was him. Quickly the pain faded and the welcome numbness overcame him. Harry felt like he was floating to the floor as the blackness claimed him.

Snape's face was frozen in horror; he rushed forward as the boy fell, the screams ripping through the silent night. The thick yellow liquid was not unfamiliar to the Potions Master. It was painful, deadly, and swift. Stepping over the boy Snape thrust a long-fingered hand into the cabinet, pulling out the antidote. He dropped to the floor beside the boy,

"You insolent child." he growled, the shards of glass cutting through the sensitive flesh on his palm.

Uncapping the new vial with one hand, Severus tilted back the head of the boy with the other hand, and poured the black liquid down the hero's throat. For a moment nothing happened, and then another moment passed, and then another. Snape's face crumpled at the thought the boy was dead.

Slender fingers caressed the boys neck, looking for a pulse and as they found one the boy shot upward, his head colliding with the large hooked nose of the man above him.

Severus grunted at the impact. Blood oozed from his nose, droplets splattering onto his robes and the face of the boy below him.

Harry leaned forward, wretched in the man's lap, and fell back again, sputtering. Snape's arm shot out just in time to catch him.

"No … Professor." he croaked weakly, vomit dripping off his chin. "Please … I …. I …." sobs wracked his body, "I want to die."

Satisfied that the boy was alive, even though just barely, Severus cast a quick spell to staunch the bleeding from his nose. Another flick of his wand and the boy was lifted on to a stretcher. Snape stood stiffly, covered in blood and vomit.

Snorting he began to walk out of his office and lead the stretcher to the infirmary, "What would your adoring public say?" he said snidely, pulling Harry along behind him. Snape grabbed the invisibility cloak at the door and tossed it over Potter.

"After all, you are the-boy-who-lived, it is not up to you to change that."

Sneering at the semi-conscious boy, Snape guided him through the corridors, to the infirmary, and the healing hands of Madame Pomfrey.


	2. Pain

Many students died during the battle for Hogwarts, but those who were injured recovered quickly and those who lived overcame their guilt in the months since the end. All but one, that was. Harry had a more difficult time than the rest dealing with the fact that he had lived yet again. Headmistress McGonagall had said that with time all things passed and advised that they all let Harry grieve in his own way. Snape cursed silently at the stupidity and wished once again that Albus was still there to interfere. If they had watched him closer, if they hadn't given the young hero so much breathing room, perhaps they would have noticed before something like this happened.

It didn't take long for Snape to traverse the hallways of the castle to the hospital wing with the young wizard in tow. Luckily most of the students were fast asleep in their dormitories, dreaming of the happy Voldemort-free future that lay before them. Madame Pomfrey sat dozing in a corduroy covered chair near the entrance, her snores echoing through the hall. By the hand of fate the infirmary was empty and still, all the beds free.

"Poppy." Severus said, his hushed voice barely cutting through the silence as he shut the door behind him.

The Hogwarts matron only snorted in response to the sound, moving a bit in the chair to find a more comfortable position.

"Poppy!" Snape bellowed, his agitation coming out in his voice. The antidote might have made Potter stable for the time being, but the young man was no where near being in the clear.

Madame Pomfrey jolted awake, standing up so quickly that she stumbled over her own feet. The only thing which prevented her from falling was the large rounded arm of the chair that restored her balance. "What is it Severus?" She asked irritably. She had been having a pleasant dream and while everyone now knew Snape's true intentions and which side he really was on, something about the man still caused her skin to crawl.

"Potter's injured himself, badly." He purred in reply, the ever present sneer reaching his lips. After everything he did, after all the countless times he risked his life for the brat, he still knew that no one at this school accepted or trusted him as easily as Albus had. That was quite fine with him. If it hadn't have been for this boys latest dramatic reaction Snape would have been sitting contently in his office, sipping his tea and leaving his red mark on the pathetic excuses the Hogwarts students called exam answers.

Alarm showed on the caretakers face and immediately she began to gather supplies, "What has he done to himself this time." She muttered under her breath while shaking her head. Harry Potter was always hurting himself one way or another and she simply assumed that it was just another accident. "Well, where is he Severus?" she sighed, prepared to deal with a boy without any bones, or the result of a transfiguration gone wrong.

"He's here." Snape replied his voice dropping into the velvet whisper once more. He reached behind himself and whisked the cloak of the stiff body of the boy. A cry escaped Poppy's lips at the sight of him. Harry's dark hair played such contrast to the ashen-white color of his skin. Vomit and blood covered him and for the first time Poppy noticed the dried blood on Snape's face and the stains on his robe.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice shaking along with her body. Madame Pomfrey had seen many horrors in the last year, but she had never expected this. The war was over, the evil had been conquered, the only injuries that she should be having to deal with were results of silly squabbles among students, not this.

Nervously Snape ran his fingers through his long greasy hair, his vision resting on the non-moving form lying on thin air. "He drank Morticaine." And it's my entire fault. He thought to himself. If I had just locked my cupboard this would have never happened.

The woman's eyes grew wide. Morticaine was a potent and deadly poison whose antidote was extremely difficult to concoct. "How?" she mouthed, unable to make sound.

"It was in my cupboard." Severus answered simply, not wanting to reveal anymore information than he had to. It wouldn't do well for anyone's spirits if they were to discover that the boy who lived had wanted so desperately to die. "We need to put him on a bed Poppy." He prodded jeeringly, hoping to change the focus of the conversation.

"Yes, yes." She replied absentmindedly as she headed to the nearest bed and began to turn back the sheets. Severus followed close behind her with Harry in tow directly behind him. Effortlessly Snape lifted the boy from the stretcher-that-wasn't-there and placed him on the stark white bed.

Snape stood looking down at the boy, his face a mask as a mixture of emotions twisted inside of him. Guilt flowed through him first for having left the cabinet open. Relief followed that the boy might die and he'd never have to deal with Potter again. Then guilt added itself to the mess once more for thinking such pleasant thoughts. All the while Poppy prodded up and down Harry's body as she preformed an exam. "Did you?" she asked, not bothering to look up. Her attention was instead focused on the wand she had just pulled from her apron.

"Yes." Severus answered the sneer coming back and the emotions fading, "Luckily I had a bottle of it as well. He would be dead already if I hadn't." You simple thing, you really think that I would have Morticaine in my store without its antidote? Much less not have the presence of mind to administer it. Unlike you I'm not so flummoxed at the notion of the boy's death.

"He's almost gone as is." Her hands froze and she looked to Snape whose gaze met her own. Tears welled in Poppy's eyes and her voice cracked as she spoke. "I don't know if I can save him. The poor thing is so badly hurt. Perhaps it would be better if we sent him to Saint Mungo's." She suggested, looking back down at the boy clad in maroon and yellow striped pajamas.

"No." Snape answered sharply, as disgust welled in him. Wallowing in tears would do nothing for the situation. Crying about possibilities was a waste of time. He prevented his upper lip from curling forcing his face to remain neutral. "He'd never survive the trip." And if they brought Potter to Mungo's there would be far too many questions. He needed her to acquiesce to keep the boy there. "I'm sure you will be sufficient." He offered, trying to smile encouragingly but instead sneering once more.

Without saying a word Madame Pomfrey bustled away to get the things that she needed. "You have to save the prat." Snape added to the now empty area, "I will not have his death on my conscious." Sweat was starting to bead on Harry's forehead, causing his dark hair to stick to the pale flesh. It was a good sign; the body was starting to fight against the poison. Fight as hard as it might though, it still could lose.

"You had best Live this one last time, Potter." Snape demanded, his long fingers reaching out to brush the soaked hair from the boy's forehead. Poppy bustled toward the bed, her arms overflowing with sleeping draughts and pain medications. Disgusted with himself Severus snatched his hand back quickly and shoved it into his robe turning away from the bed. His swift silent steps led him from the infirmary and back to the supposed comfort of his dungeons.


	3. Fear

When Severus entered his office again that evening the delicate piece of china which held his tea was no longer steaming. The flagstone floor by his desk was littered with shards of glass and blood and vomit had oozed into the seams. Pinching the bridge of his rather large nose between his fingers in exasperation Snape sighed and entered the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

How had he been so foolish? Why had he left the cabinet unlatched? Shaking his head Snape walked to his desk and collapsed into his seat. The supple leather cushioned his fall while the structure of the chair curved around his body protectively. Trembling, both in anger at himself and exhaustion from the weight of the situation, Snape reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew his wand. Inattentively he aimed the sleek ebony rod over his shoulder and flicked his wrist once, causing all the portions of the ruined vial lifted off the stone floor as if by themselves and float into a nearby rubbish bin. Another twitch of his hand and the puddles of bodily fluids disappeared into thin air. With a third motion the liquid in front of him was scalding hot again, tendrils of steam wafting lazily toward the ceiling.

The whole process of cleaning the mess of an office took seconds, but by the time he was finished Severus's face was drawn and large purple half circles had appeared under his eyes. After the war was over Severus was supposed to be done swooping in at the moment to protect the twit. Somehow though, the fates still found a way to enforce his penance causing the scarred child to interfere with his life. He deposited his wand back into its proper place before downing the molten tea in one gulp. Relishing the pain as the liquid traveled down his throat he sunk back into the leather covering his face with his large hands. None of the students at Hogwarts would dare to enter his office when he was not present, much less take something out of it. They were all too fearing of the wrath that would follow. Potter had never feared him though, and even if he had, it seemed that young man had lost the healthy instinct.

Snape knew what it was like to feel absolutely alone, to feel as though the whole world was against you and that there was no reason to continue on. He had even come close to committing a similar act once or twice in his life, but there was always something that stopped him. Usually the comforting though of the revenge he would be able to extract if he continued to live. If the staff at Hogwarts had only paid more attention, if only Minerva hadn't been so flippant about the way the boy was grieving. They could have stopped this. Even if by yet another miracle Potter managed to survive, it would take him months to fully recuperate, and the anguish in Potter's mind that caused him to attempt such a horrendous act would only be intensified by the fact he had failed to die, and yet again it had been the bile potions master that had rescued him from his foolishness.

Abruptly Severus stood and stormed from his office, through the dungeons and up the stairs. His robes billowed behind him like the ominous clouds of an oncoming thunderstorm. Up, up and up he climbed. His pace increased steadily as he continued his assent until he was running through the halls, his hobnailed boots echoing coldly through the corridors. All at once he was upon a door, his chest heaving and his breath coming out in gulps.

Balling his hand into a fist Snape pounded on the door, the sound resounding through the thick wood. Inside the chamber Headmistress McGonagall threw off the large down comforter she slept under and rushed to the door, the panic rising in her preventing her from covering herself with a robe. With a worried face and clad in forest green satin pajamas, Minerva pulled the heavy door open in one fluid movement. The large fixture moved so quickly that Severus's hand almost made contact with her face as it aimed to strike down for another blow.

The sight that greeted the headmistress was a horrific one. Severus's eyes were wide and wild with anger, his pallid cheeks were flushed from his recent exercise and a light froth had accumulated at the corners of his mouth. "Professor Snape!" She exclaimed, "What's happened?" The man was rarely so shaken and her eye's searched his features for some sort of an answer as to why he was in such a state. Snape's upper lip curled upward in an animalistic snarl, revealing yellowed teeth. He brought his hand back and smoothed down his robe, before turning his attention back toward McGonagall. "Harry Potter has committed suicide." He said through clenched teeth, his voice low and deadly and his black eyes burning into her. An air of triumph surrounded him.

With a gasp Minerva staggered backwards all the color draining from her face, leaving her skin as pale as that of the man that stood before her. Her hand reached out and she grasped a nearby table for support. She failed to remember to breathe.

"How?" She whispered shakily.

A wicked sneer crossed Snape's face in response to the question. "He broke into my office and stole a bottle of Morticaine. As I entered he consumed it."

"You just stood there and watched him do it?" She asked, color flooding back into her skin as her grief turned to anger.

Severus snorted in disgust, "Of course not. As you know, there is no poison in my store that I do not have an antidote for. Morticaine works swiftly however, and the antidote does not always work." He said the last in a strangled voice filled with regret. E was unsure himself if the regret was for the fact that the boy might dir or that the brat might survive.

McGonagall had turned as he spoke pulling a matching satin robe off of one of the banisters of her bed before donning it. With a flick of her wand and muttered words her glasses levitated from the bedside table to her waiting hand. "Did you leave him there?" She questioned steadily, turning from the woman that had always had a soft spot for the boy into the administrator that had a school to run.

Getting bored with these repetitive questions and the insulting insinuations Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, I left the hero of the wizarding world dead on my office floor. Come now Minerva, I brought him to Poppy. She's attempting to save him as we speak, but I doubt she will have any success."

The Headmistress had just exited the room, beginning to head for the hospital wing. At Severus's last statement she turned sharply on her heel and glared at the man. A glare that matched the one Severus often shared with his first year students crossed his face. "You had said that Harry was dead Severus." She spat the words, her voice more bitter and deadly than his could ever be.

"He most likely is." Snape said coolly, not bothered by Minerva's reaction. He walked around her and headed back toward where Potter lay. Closing her eyes and taking in a large calming breath the woman wearing green composed herself as best as she could before turning once again and heading after Severus.

They walked through the castle without speaking, both educators praying silently to themselves that the boy would be alive with they got to him. One hopping that yet another miracle would occur and the other dreading the implications to come if the boy were to die. The minutes passed as they walked and Severus grew more agitated with every step. He held the door for Minerva when they arrived and she swooped past him with an air of urgency.

Poppy was hunched over the bed, blocking the arrivals view of the bed. "How is he?" They asked in unison causing the nurse to start. Madame Pomfrey glared at them pressing a finger to her lips, "He's alive, although barely." She said softly, leading the pair away from the bed to the other side of the vast room. "If he survives until morning I think he will be able to pull through. It's the next few hours that are going to be the tough ones. I've done all I can though, it's up to his body now." As she spoke she looked to the pale form across the room. He was so still on the bed, none of the group would have known he was alive were it not for the labored rise and fall of his chest.

Severus's vision was focused on the boy as well and his heart beat had started to slow. Poppy continued on, "Even if he makes it through the night he's going to need round the clock care for a month or two at the least. That muggle family of his surely wont care for him like he needs. We can't keep him here at the school. What are we going to do with him?" Madame Pomfrey looked to the Headmistress for an answer but it was Snape that spoke.

"I'll take care of him." He said softly, shocking himself with the words. He did not wish to play nursemaid to the bane of his existence but if he were to be able to exact his revenge on the young man it would be better to have him nearby.

Both women laughed instantly and Minerva spoke, "Surely you're kidding Severus. You, take care of the boy? He'd be in better hands at Privet Drive" She smiled wryly as the words fell from her lips, the idea was preposterous.

"Why does the thought appall you so Minerva? I'm trained in the arts of healing, and I am alone at the manor. I have no plans for this summer other than working on a few formulas." Not to mention if I had locked the cabinet none of this would have happened he added silently. "I see no reason that the boy cannot go through his convalescence at my home." And as soon as he is fully recovered I will make sure he realizes why no other student would be so foolish as to take from my private stores.

"But he loathes you." The headmistress replied, her face blank with shock. "And you him, it's a horrible idea. No, we must think of something else."

"He is quite skilled." Poppy added shyly. "Almost as much so as I."

"It would do Potter and I both well to get over our apparent distaste for one another." Snape purred, needing her to relent, to allow him this redemption. To allow him his total revenge once and for all. How the boy would detest being trapped at the manor. Being bent to the potion masters will for two and a half months. The thought almost made Severus smile.

Minerva looked from the boy across the room and then to Snape. "My adolescence was no joy as you both well know. Perhaps I could assist him with dealing with the pain." He added quietly.

"If he dies while in your care." Minerva threatened. He'll only wish he was dead Snape thought to himself.

"He has to make it to the morning first." Poppy said grimly.

The headmistress nodded, "Keep me up to date on his progress Madame Pomfrey. I must go and have a talk with the Head of Gryffindor. We will all meet here before breakfast and determine what is to happen with him."

Poppy nodded and Minerva turned and strode out of the room, looking back at the boy once more before closing the door behind her.

"You might as well try and get some sleep." Madame Pomfrey said, looking to Snape.

"I'll stay." He said, the guilt, hope and resentment all welling inside of him.

Poppy nodded and bustled off once again. Severus crossed the room in four strides and found himself looking down at the boy. The same patch of hair was still plastered to the young mans forehead. Reaching down Snape gently brushed it away trailing his fingers across the clammy skin. "You will pay for your transgressions this time Potter. There is no escaping it." He snarled.


End file.
